


If You Do

by matchamarimo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oikawa Tooru WILL get his brunch and nobody can stop him, Retrospective, third year seijoh squad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22322596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchamarimo/pseuds/matchamarimo
Summary: But then Takahiro smiles, just a light, teasing one, and says, "Not with that lackluster proposal, Issei."And Issei—Issei panics.---In which Issei consults the internet for steadily worsening proposal ideas, Hajime has had enough, Tooru is surprisingly the most helpful in the most roundabout way, and Takahiro—well, actually, nobody really knows what Takahiro is thinking right now.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 33
Kudos: 331





	If You Do

**Author's Note:**

> Title from GOT7’s song ‘If You Do’. There’s no relation to the actual song though.
> 
> Enjoy!

The second Saturday of every month is Brunch day (with a capital B for emphasis), which means Takahiro will squirm awake at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning and abandon the warm, cozy nest he and Issei would have formed after a wonderful night of snuggling and cuddling in favour of getting ready.

It is, as most things are, all Tooru's fault. The city is understandably bright and vibrant and brimming with endless options of food opportunities, and Tooru is a domestic sucker who wants to sip mimosas and munch on avocado toast with his loving husband at some tiny restaurant that doesn't have tables nearly big enough to fit grown adult men over six feet tall.

Unfortunately, Hajime is decidedly _not_ a domestic sucker, and likes to get up at five in the morning on weekends to jog or workout at the gym, and by the time he gets back he's got the appetite of a starving beast and absolutely cannot wait long enough for a) Tooru to get ready and b) for brunch hours to commence lest he passes out from hunger while waiting in line with his husband at one of the more popular brunch spots downtown.

To this day, Hajime refuses to go back.

Fortunately, Takahiro surprises them all with his unexpected interest in late breakfasts at Instagram-worthy eateries, and since Tooru and Sugawara Koushi have actually managed to bury their hatchet from their med school rivalry days, the three of them are all happily holding hands and skipping off to brunch every second Saturday of the month to satisfy Tooru's infatuation with breakfast cocktails.

Which leaves the Significant Others (patent pending) to figure out something for themselves while their respective partners dine out.

Sawamura Daichi is already waiting at the entrance of the mall when Issei arrives with his extra large cup of coffee. He's texting someone on his phone, undoubtedly his husband.

"Mornin'," Issei yawns. "Say hi to Suga-san for me."

"How'd you know?" Sawamura asks, but he's dutifully typing away.

"Because you're a goody-two shoes and so obviously infatuated with your partner, duh."

Sawamura laughs, and pockets his phone. "You got me there," he says. "Koushi was sending me pictures of their food, it looked pretty good. Hanamaki's on his third cesar already."

"Goddamnit, Hiro," Issei tuts, but he checks his own phone and can't stop the dumb, sappy grin from spreading on his face when he sees the selfie Takahiro has sent of him, Tooru, and Sugawara with their plates of crepes, fruit, and whipped cream.

"Ah, there he is," Sawamura says, and they turn to see Hajime jogging over. There's a turquoise shopping bag hanging from his wrist.

"Started without us?" Issei asks, arching an eyebrow at the bag.

"Had to," Hajime grumbles, holding the bag open to show Issei and Sawamura. It’s a very fancy looking skincare set, complete with a silk hairband, face brushes with polished handles, and a matching compact mirror. "Tooru's favourite brand released their new set today, and if I waited to buy it it'd be sold out."

"Wow," Issei says, and while he doesn't know a thing about skincare aside from the moisturizing set Takahiro gave him years ago, he can tell it's a quality product. "You can't spoil him like this, Hajime, it's not even his birthday. You're gonna put us all to shame."

Hajime grimaces, cheeks pink. "It's our anniversary next Saturday," he explains. "Been married for ten years now. So I gotta do some shopping."

Issei chokes on his next gulp of coffee. "What?!"

" _Ten years_ ?" Sawamura splutters. "Wait—hang on, you're _my age_ , Iwaizumi, you're only twenty-eight—"

"They got married straight out of high school," Issei recalls, and then is promptly horrified by the fact that his own high school graduation was ten years ago. "Holy shit, we graduated ten years ago. Oh my god, we're old."

"Ten years," Sawamura repeats in awe, apparently still stuck on that fact. Hajime is blushing up to his hairline.

"Shut up, you and Sugawara got together in high school too, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but we didn't marry until after we finished university," Sawamura says. They fall into step with each other as they head into the mall; Hajime leads the way, because today's shopping trip had been his idea despite it being wholly out-of-character for him, though Issei suddenly understands why now. "But hey, congratulations—that's quite a milestone."

And the universe must be going through some kind of cosmic imbalance, or mercury is in Gatorade or whatever the saying is, because Iwaizumi Fucking Hajime is smiling and blushing and actually twisting the handles of his shopping bag like a middle schooler in love.

"Thanks," he says, almost nostalgically. "Looking back now I'm realizing what _brats_ we were—we didn't even tell our parents until we got back from our honeymoon. Which was to a god damn onsen in Sapporo Tooru won tickets for on a radio contest. I'm surprised mom didn't slap me stupid."

"Marriage definitely has though," Issei teases, and Hajime gives him the middle finger. "Oh, c'mon, you are such a sucker now, Hajime, I swear to god being married to Tooru has actually mellowed you out. You guys wear matching pyjamas."

"As if you would understand," Hajime retorts. "When are you gonna pop the question anyway, huh? Neither of you nor Takahiro are getting any younger."

Issei splutters. Today is really not a dignified day for him. "We're all _literally_ the same age."

"And yet look how far behind you are," Hajime smirks, and Issei must've made a face because Sawamura busts out laughing. "Also, must I remind you long you pined for Takahiro? You're wasting precious days, Issei."

"Shut up," Issei complains, because he really doesn't have a good comeback for that, since Hajime and Tooru were, unfortunately, his main confidants during the period of time where he couldn't even look at Takahiro without thinking dumb cute thoughts like how nice it would be to wake up next to each other every day and make each other breakfast and give each other goodbye kisses at the door before work.

Luckily, Hajime relents with a friendly pat to his shoulder. "I'm kidding, don't twist yourself up in knots over it," he laughs. "If you're happy then you're happy, y'know?"

"There's never a need to rush these kinds of things," Sawamura adds. "When it feels right, you'll be ready for it."

"Thank you, o great masters of romance," Issei deadpans, and dodges a swipe from Hajime.

"We're wasting our expertise on you," he grumbles. "Alright, we're going here next."

It's a jewellery store, and a relatively high-end one too. Issei feels awkward and out of place the second he steps inside and sees the rows and rows of display cases, packed full of glistening diamonds, gems, and flashy rocks. But Hajime just walks up to the salesperson and immediately inquiries about a piece he'd apparently already made a deposit for, so he and Sawamura wander around the store, peering at the jewellery on display.

It's inevitable that he ends up in front of the engagement rings, gazing at the vast options before him, with the beginnings of a small, curious _what if?_ blossoming in the back of his mind.

* * *

They're sitting in bed together on Thursday evening, with Issei going over Kindaichi’s sample Sergeants' exams and Takahiro flipping through a lifestyle magazine when he thinks about it again.

Takahiro had shown him some texts he'd gotten from Tooru at dinner, which comprised of a lot of keysmashing and photos of the anniversary gift Tooru had picked out for Hajime: a beautiful gold chain, gorgeous yet subtle enough for Hajime's tastes. Tooru was, as usual, freaking out about one thing or another (this time about the gift wrap he'd gotten not matching the jewellery box the chain came in), and Issei had watched Takahiro text back and tease with some kind of warmth pooling in the centre of his chest, spreading through him like a gentle fire.

"Hiro," he says, and his boyfriend hums, still engrossed in the magazine. "What do you think about us getting married?"

"Hmm?" Takahiro looks up. He considers Issei for a moment, and a lopsided little grin spreads across his face. "What, are you catching wedding fever after watching Tooru lose his mind over tissue paper?"

"Tooru loses his mind over something trivial every other day," Issei snorts. It's actually one of Tooru's more hilariously endearing qualities, though none of them would ever dare let him know. "I was just...thinking, you know? Just wondering about what you thought of the idea."

"Well, I do want to get married to you someday," Takahiro says. "It'll be a nice milestone for the future, don't you think?"

A milestone. Just like Sawamura had said.

"I do too," Issei says. His face feels a little too hot and he's vaguely aware that the covers, which had been warm and cozy just moments before, now feel a bit stifling. "Get married to you, that is. That would be—really nice."

The corners of Takahiro's eyes crinkle, and there's a fondness in his gaze that makes Issei's stomach do flips. He's reminded of the way he used to watch Takahiro, when he’s practicing on his electronic cello in the tiny, closet-sized apartment they used to live in, or when he would to contort himself into impossible positions while brainstorming compositions, or how he would sit with his legs dangling through the railing of their balcony when he needed inspiration. All the small, seemingly day-to-day moments of their shared life pre-dating and post-getting-together were the moments that only served to tug Issei deeper in this otherworldly mystery known as _love_.

"That would be really nice," Takahiro murmurs in agreement, and leans over to give Issei a peck on the cheek. But then, he simply relaxes back against his pillows and goes back to his magazine, and that's not the reaction Issei was, well, hoping to get? But then again, Takahiro’s probably not sure what he's getting at, and maybe Issei wasn't totally clear on his point.

He takes a shaky breath, gathers up all his courage, and says, "Hiro, let's get married."

Takahiro pauses, midway through folding down the corner of a page. When he looks at Issei, he looks a little surprised. His eyes are bright. Issei swallows. Oh yeah, he's definitely sweating.

"Are you…" Takahiro mulls his words over for a second. He seems to be making a conscious effort to keep his voice level. "Are you proposing to me right now?"

"I—yes?"

"Is that a question?"

"No, well, yes, or—the proposal is a question? And I'm asking if you'll marry me?"

Takahiro stares at him.

Distantly, Issei feels like he's mistepped. He knows Takahiro's looks, by process of being hopelessly in love for years and by being best friends for even longer. Takahiro's expressions doesn't fluctuate wildly; he’s a relaxed kind of guy and it takes a practiced eye to distinguish some of his looks apart. But right now, his face is completely unreadable, and for a second, Issei thinks he's upset his boyfriend.

But then Takahiro smiles, just a light, easy-going one, and says, "Not with that lackluster proposal, Issei."

And Issei—

Issei panics.

"Wait, for real? You're saying no?" Issei blurts out, and oh, he’s not just panicking, he’s freaking out. He’s freaking out hard, feeling a tiny bit dizzy, and maybe that’s a cold undercurrent of disappointment in his stomach, and maybe he _did_ mess up, but first and foremost he’s freaking the hell out because even though this was sort of a spur-of-the moment, _Takahiro said no_.

“Not to _you_ ,” Takahiro replies, raising an eyebrow. He reaches over and places a hand over Issei’s; Issei, still going through the five stages of grief at the same time, is too distracted to intertwine their fingers like he normally does. That clearly doesn’t escape Takahiro. “Oi, Issei, calm down. I’m not saying I won’t marry you—I’m just saying, if you’re going to propose, or if I’m going to propose, we can take our time with it.”

“Take our time,” Issei repeats, voice small.

Takahiro nods, patting his hand soothingly and not completely oblivious to his internal meltdown. “We’re in no rush. There’s no need to go crazy over it. And don’t worry, I don’t plan on spending the rest of my life with anyone else but you.”

“Right,” Issei says, finally managing to coordinate his brain and his hands, and gives Takahiro’s a robotic squeeze.

Takahiro is watching him closely. “For real,” he says. “Nobody but you.”

“I...I know,” Issei answers. “Sorry—I just...sorry, I’m not sure what came over me just now.”

“Are you alright?” Takahiro asks, and Issei nods. He scrubs a hand through his hair and offers his most reassuring smile.

“I’m fine, Hiro. Didn’t mean to almost lose it on you. I’m okay, I swear.”

It takes a moment, but Takahiro finally relaxes after careful deliberation; he smiles warmly at Issei, leans over and kisses him, soft and sweet. Then he snuggles back into Issei’s side, slides his magazine onto the nightstand, and gets comfy.

“Love you, babe,” Takahiro murmurs against his chest, and Issei hums quietly in response. 

"Love you too." Issei says, and puts the sample papers away, because there’s not way he’s gonna be able to concentrate on them anymore.

He turns off the lights and pulls the covers up.

Even as Takahiro’s breathing evens out, and the neon numbers on his clock blink the hours away, Issei lays awake, staring up at the dark ceiling.

He starts to think.  
  


* * *

He’s not really sure where to start with his proposal.

Not that there's a lack of resources available for him; Issei wastes a good chunk of his Sunday afternoon discreetly browsing through proposal videos on YouTube, each of them wilder and more dramatic than the last. But then he also stumbles upon the “wedding proposal fail' videos, and when the montages of devastated faces and crocodile tears start to give him a cold sweat, he decides to take a long break after that.

If there's one thing he takes away from all of it, it's that everything is so _grand_ , almost unnecessarily so. People pour money and money and...well, money into their proposals; Issei watches videos of jets twirling across the skies, spelling out the names of the lucky spouse-to-be. Upscale, five-star restaurants get booked out, shopping malls closed down, theme parks taken over. There’s walls of fresh flowers and expensive liquor and sparkling diamonds, and it seems like everyone wants theirs to be bigger and bling-ier than anyone else's’. Issei's head swims with the array of ideas laid before him. It's all just so _much_.

He tells Hajime so when they spontaneously meet up for dinner one evening. Tooru is at the hospital tonight, picking up a shift for Dr. Yahaba, and Takahiro is performing at a charity ball uptown.

"Yeah, it always feels like a competition more than anything else," Hajime says as he slurps his ramen, tie and buttons undone at his neck. A hint of gold flashes beneath the collar; the necklace Tooru got a handsome and elegant addition to Hajime’s otherwise modest business attire. “They’re just trying to flex. No reason other than that, why else would someone buy five thousand dollar champagne just to spray it all over the place?”

Issei nods his agreement. “So how did you propose? I’m guessing you weren’t buying liquor at the tender age of eighteen.”

Hajime blushes a little, always hilariously shy-grumpy when asked about how he did it. Tooru has no issues dishing out everything in detail, so Issei knows the gist of it, but still. He needs better information than what YouTube has to offer.

“You know how it happened,” he mumbled. “Tooru literally never shuts up about it.”

“Yes, but I wanna hear your side of it," Issei says. "Since you're the one who popped the question, after all."

"Seriously? What's with the sudden interest?" Hajime laughs. "It's almost like you're going to—oh. Ohhh."

"Hey, shut up now," Issei warns, feeling the tips of his ears heat, but it's too late. Hajime is already smirking at him.

"I didn't say anything."

"I can tell by your face. Your dumb little sneaky face."

"Yeah, and this dumb sneaky face just celebrated ten years of marriage," Hajime grins. "And the one you're asking proposal advice from."

"I take it back," Issei grumbles. "You're just being a shit."

“Aw, c’mon,” Hajime says. “Is this really it? Are you finally gonna ask Takahiro to marry you?”

“I’m _trying_ to,” Issei retorts, placing an emphasis on ‘trying’. “The one friend I’m trusting for help is doing jack shit though.”

“I’m plenty of help, I’m just surprised.” Hajime reaches out and claps him heartily on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Issei, I really am. God, Tooru’s gonna freak, he’s been moaning and groaning about you guys waiting to tie the knot and now it’s finally happening.”

“Oh my god, don’t tell Tooru yet,” Issei chokes. He can only imagine how wild his life would quickly become. “It’s just—this is all—I mean, I’m only working on it, there’s no real plan set in motion yet, so it’s all up in the air, and nothing’s decided—”

“Whoa, calm down,” Hajime interrupts. “Easy man, you know Tooru wouldn’t say anything. And it’s alright, Takahiro isn’t a fussy person. He’ll love your proposal no matter what.”

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Takahiro isn’t fussy, not at all. He, like Issei, are both minimalists at heart and tend not to place a lot of stock on the superficial, like crazy gifts and lavish expressions of unending love. And up until now, Issei had thought that if he were to propose, something small and meaningful would’ve been enough.

His boyfriend’s words ring through his mind again. _Not with that lackluster proposal, Issei_.

He starts to sweat again.

Hajime is watching him closely. “Are you alright?”

“M’ fine,” Issei mumbles, and does an admirable job of pulling himself together. “Seriously. How did you plan your proposal? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Hajime is silent for a moment, sharp grey eyes roaming over Issei’s face, but he mercifully doesn’t press further. “Well, the first thing I did was save up for a ring. Remember all those extra shifts I took at the hardware store and at the pool in third year? I couldn’t buy an actual real gold ring, but Tooru’s sister helped me look up stores that were more affordable and I picked a good one out. Then, on graduation day, I took Tooru out for a picnic up on the mountain we used to play on when we were kids.”

Issei’s heard about the mountain before. Apparently it’s their beloved childhood hangout, despite the sheer number of bugs that terrified Tooru as a kid and the time Hajime broke his arm when he fell off the side of a short cliff.

“I made us lunch—it was really shitty, to be honest, the onigiri fell apart in my backpack on the way up and one of the bottles of soda leaked and it got all over Tooru’s shirt. But we ate, hiked to the summit, and that’s where I proposed.”

“And you never even told your parents,” Issei grins. This part of the story he’s very well acquainted with.

Hajime chuckles wryly. “I was so blindsided. All I wanted to do was to marry him. This dumb, crybaby kid who got snot all over me when I scared him with a beetle but still tried to follow me up the mountain every time. I wanted to hold him and protect him from everything bad in the world, and honestly, I still do now.”

“Saps,” Issei says, but even he can’t keep the fondness out of his tone.

“The marriage registration and honeymoon and the actual ceremony our moms forced us to put together all came after, but even if we had none of that, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“What was it like?” Issei asks, because that’s the one thing he desperately wants to know. “What was it like, getting on one knee and seeing Tooru’s face? Were you scared? Nervous? Even though you had to have known he’d say yes without hesitation?”

Hajime’s eyes glaze over for a moment, clearly reliving the moment. His lips tilt up in a nostalgic little smile. “It was terrifying,” he says. “Terrifying and frightening and I think I started crying halfway through proposing? But it was worth everything. Every adventure, every fight, every dream we achieved together before and since then—it was worth it all.”

* * *

He decides to start a list of all the things Takahiro would probably like in his proposal.

It’s a start; the more he writes, the more ideas come forth, even if they’re only half-baked and rough.

_a simple ring so it doesn’t get in his way when he’s performing_

_something music related?_

_creampuffs (lol)_

_a speech (not too long, or he’ll fidget and i’ll forget half of it)_

And then, while he’s there, he makes a list of things Takahiro would probably not like at his proposal.

_a crowd_

_flashmobs_

_anywhere with too many ppl rly_

_cats (allergic)_

_his sisters (will tease him and stream the whole thing on instagram)_

It’s, admittedly, not a very good list.

Issei stares at it for a whole minute before he groans, slumping over the coffee table dejectedly. He’s stuck already, and it doesn’t feel like a very good place to get stuck at. It’s not to say that he hasn’t gotten a lot done—the sheer number of jewellery store tabs open on his phone in incognito mode can attest to that—but he feels like he should know his boyfriend a little more. They’ve only been dating for three years but they’ve known each other since middle school, and shouldn’t all those years amount to something?

The rattle of keys on the other side of the door startles him from his slouch, and Issei barely manages to sweep his list into his sweater pocket before Takahiro steps into the entryway.

“I’m home,” he calls, and Issei peers around the corner of the wall, doing his best to look innocent.

“Welcome back,” he replies, and Takahiro smiles at him. He strolls in, eases his cello off his back, and holds out a plastic bag with a familiar takeout logo on it.

“Ta-da,” Takahiro grins. “Dinner!”

“You didn’t,” Issei says eagerly, taking the package from his boyfriend. He cracks open the top of one styrofoam box; the deliciously greasy scent of cheese-filled hamburger steak from their favourite diner wafts up to him. “Ugh, babe, you’re the best.”

“You’re damn right I am,” Takahiro says, leaning cheekily over into Issei’s space. “C’mon, lay it on me, lover boy.”

Issei does. He puts his hands on either side of Takahiro’s face and peppers his forehead, eyelids, temples and the bridge of his nose with loud, obnoxious smacks. Takahiro laughs, pinching him in the shoulder, and then Issei presses his mouth over Takahiro’s and kisses him soundly, feeling the softness of his boyfriend’s lips and gently teasing his tongue against the seam. Takahiro makes a quiet noise, satisfied and warm, and Issei is suddenly catapulted into a vision where he’s kissing Takahiro like this at the altar, with their family and friends watching and clapping, and he can’t help the shiver that ran up his spine. Whether it’s from anxiety or want, he can’t say for sure. Maybe a terrifying combination of both.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Takahiro breathes, easing himself back from Issei’s kiss. He licks his lips, breath hitching slightly. “You’re gonna start something.”

“Mmm,” Issei hums, and deliberately runs his fingers through Takahiro’s hair, delighting in the way Takahiro shudders and the way his eyelashes flutter.

“Nuh-uh, Issei, I’m hella starved. Let me change and eat first or else I’m gonna get real grouchy.”

“Spoilsport,” Issei teases, but releases Takahiro and busies himself with setting up dinner.

They eat and fill each other in on their day (Kyoutani nearly got run over by some punk stealing a motorcycle, which sent Yahaba crashing into their bullpen in a fit of frenzied rage and worry, and Takahiro bitched about the stuck-up new first violinist and her nitpicking for ten minutes straight), and once the dishes were done and they’d had their little tryst in the shower, they curl up together in bed and wind down for the night.

Takahiro falls asleep first, head lolling languidly over and bumping into Issei’s arm. Issei gently tugs the tattered composition book and pencil from Takahiro’s slack hands before pulling the blankets up for him. He turns off the light on Takahiro’s side of the bed and carefully snuggles down into the blankets as well, carding his fingers through soft, pale pink hair and taking extra care to massage the spot at the base of Takahiro’s neck while he admires his boyfriend.

He loves the way Takahiro’s eyes crinkles when he’s laughing, the adorable jut of his lower lip when he’s stuck on a cadence and can’t figure out how to end his song. He loves seeing the flash of mischief in his boyfriend’s eyes when he’s about to pull a fast one on Hajime. His heart swells at the soft, unguarded look on Takahiro’s face as he sleeps, chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths.

The wait was absolutely worth it; all those years he spent fumbling with his hapless crush and pining over everything _Takahiro_. And now, he realizes that he would probably have to wait just a little bit longer, and in the meantime, hopefully do this proposal thing right. 

“I love you,” Issei murmurs, stroking his thumb over the curve of Takahiro’s cheek. “I’m gonna make it worth your time, Hiro. I promise.”

* * *

Hajime endures another three days of Issei’s questions, links, and never-ending barrage of texts before he snaps and calls Issei while he’s on lunch.

“Talk to Tooru about it,” Hajime says, and before Issei could protest he ploughs on. “I’m serious, Issei, talk to Tooru. He can help you. Besides, he already knows about everything.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell him!” 

“I didn’t say shit. But his sister saw you at that men’s jewellery store yesterday night and told Tooru, and he pieced it together faster than you can say ‘milk bread’.”

God damn it. Issei _knew_ he should’ve worn a hat, or something.

“Look, I can’t guarantee he won’t make you want to throttle him into next Tuesday, but I can guarantee he can help you figure some things out. He’s stupidly good at stuff like this, and he’s very perceptive.”

“Really?” Issei asks, skeptical. “You sure he’s not just gonna call me names and come up with terrible date ideas like he did when he was helping me with my crush?”

“Name one person that gets more hung up on the small details than my husband. Go ahead, I dare you.”

“Alright, alright, that’s like asking the sun to stop shining, or whatever. I’ll give him a call.”

“You better. If you keep going on the way you are right now I know you’ll end up talking yourself out of proposing because you think you’re not good enough for Takahiro or something. Which you aren’t, by the way. You’re a motherfucking catch and we all know it, especially you boyfriend.”

“ _Hajime_ ,” Issei hisses, blushing up to his hairline.

“Am I wrong?”

“Irrelevant.”

The current judgemental silence on the other end is strangely reminiscent of his pre-dating days, where Hajime was always perpetually ten seconds away from blowing up in exasperation at him.

“Talk. To. Tooru. I will know if you don’t, Issei.”

“Yeah, yeah, I bet you two are secretly psychic or something. Or you blink morse code at each other and talk shit about the rest of us.”

“Perks of being married, so pop the question and you’ll find out too,” Hajime says, and hangs up before Issei could get the last word in, that sneaky bastard. He shoves his phone back into his jacket and grumbles into his sandwich.

“Everything okay, Sarge?” Kindaichi asks, head tilted curiously.

“Yeah, nothing to worry about,” Issei says the same time Kyoutani grunts, “Sarge’s too chicken to propose to his boyfriend.”

“What!” Kindaichi exclaims as Issei nearly spits out his bite.

“How the fuck do you know about that?”

Kyoutani shrugs. “Oikawa tells Shigeru everything, and Shigeru tells me everything, so yeah.”

Issei buries his head in his arms and groans. Kyoutani grimances, looking a little sympathetic. “Trust me, everything I learned from Oikawa I learned against my will.”

“But congratulations, Sarge!” At least Kindaichi’s excitement is pure. And god, even Kyoutani knows. Issei wants to die. “What are your plans? When are you gonna do it?”

“None, kid,” Issei sighs. “I don’t have any plans yet, and I don’t know when.”

“But you’ll come up with something,” Kindaichi says, and his unwavering faith in Issei is almost a blessing and a curse. “I’m sure Hanamaki-san would love it, no matter what!”

“You’re too good for this world, Kindaichi,” Issei sighs. “Please don’t take your Sergeant's exam, just stay at this precinct forever.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for someone so afraid of change, Sarge,” Kyoutani remarks dryly. When Issei raises his eyebrows in askance, Kyoutani shrugs and takes a huge bite of his curry. “Aren’t you the one who’s always telling us to keep looking ahead when we’re stuck on cases? That if one method doesn’t stick, to not be afraid to take a chance with another?”

“You actually listen to what I say?”

Kyoutani flushes. “It works sometimes, alright?” he scowls. “You should know, you’re the one who comes up with all these dumb ideas.”

Despite his best efforts, Kyoutani’s words haunt him for the rest of the day, and it’s a frustrating distraction that even the mind-numbingly boring case files and the distraction of helping Kindaichi through more practice exams cannot remedy.

_Afraid of change_.

Is this what it came down to? A fear of change?

It very well could be, because the thing is, for Issei, Takahiro has always been someone he’s looked towards. Takahiro, who takes to the world like he does on a stage, charming it with his cheeky half-smiles and his elegance. Issei knows he himself is laid-back, easy-going and good-natured to his friends and juniors at the precinct, but for Takahiro, he knows just how serious he actually is for his boyfriend. He’ll burn and burn and he’ll endure every second of it, if only it meant that Takahiro will think back to every moment they had together and feel just as content as he does.

And maybe, in retrospect, that’s why it took Issei so many years to work up the courage to confess, why the idea of proposing is terrifying him right now. It was so much easier to let things flow the way they were, even if he was never content to just hang around Takahiro’s side as a good friend, as a _best_ friend. But there had always been that threshold he hesitated to step over; worried that he would mess it all up, and lose his best friend. Scared that Takahiro will be with him, and then realize he could do better.

But he can’t keep waiting like this. He has to take a chance, and for no reason other than the fact that Takahiro deserves nothing but the best.

* * *

Miyaji General Hospital is only a five-minute walk from the precinct, so he texts Tooru and they agree to meet for dinner the next day.

When Issei walks up to the front of the hospital, Tooru is already waiting, chatting animatedly with Yahaba and one of the surgeons he recognizes from Sugawara’s old study group. Ennoshita, or something.

“Issei!” Tooru spreads his arms grandly. “My poor, lovestruck fool of a friend, let’s go get dinner and talk about your woes.”

“Your treat,” Issei says, and smirks at Toor’s indignant squawk. “Hey Yahaba, Dr. Ennoshita.”

“He’s your problem now,” Yahaba grunts, giving Tooru a push in Issei’s direction. They all look like shit, hair frumpled and heavy bags under their eyes, though Tooru looks like he’s made an effort to sort himself out before going out for dinner.

“How rude, Yahaba-chan! I am a gift to this world!”

“In a totally different dimension maybe,” Issei jokes. “I’ll be taking him. See you guys around.”

Yahaba mumble something uninterpretable, and Ennoshita gives him a tired smile and a wave.

“Best of luck, Sergeant.”

It takes him a couple of seconds to process what Ennoshita had said, and when he does, he gives Tooru a whack upside his head.

“Seriously? You’re the reason why even Kyoutani knows about me planning to propose.”

“No I’m not,” Tooru whines. “Yahaba-chan accidentally overheard me talking to Hajime over the phone on break, and Ennoshita doesn’t actually know what you’re gonna do, he just knows you’re going through a tough little existential crisis right now!”

“I’m not having an existential crisis, I’m just stuck brainstorming!”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” Tooru snarks back. The tromp through the downtown core and continue bickering all the way into a fusion restaurant that Issei’s already forgotten the name of already.

“Hajime told me you could help with my proposal, but I’m starting to doubt that.”

Tooru sniffs and takes a delicate sip of tea. “You know, Issei, you’re so focused on the proposing part of this whole thing that I think you’re forgetting about the most important part of it all.”

“And that is?”

“The two of you,” Tooru replies, eyes flashing. He sets their two tea cups side by side. “Hanamaki Takahiro and Matsukawa Issei. The stars of the show.”

“Wouldn’t it technically be Takahiro? He’s the one getting proposed to, after all.”

“And you’re what, chopped liver?” Tooru huffs. “Marriage takes two. It’s not just about Takahiro, you’re a part of it all as well. And I think you’re so wrapped up in how you can make it special for Takahiro that you’re forgetting you’re special too.”

“You’ve lost me,” Issei says, dumbfounded. Tooru presses his hands into his face and lets out a garbled, unintelligible series of groans and curses about dumbass friends and hopeless romantics and something about one of the nurses accidentally dropping an entire tray of surgical equipment on his foot today, but it only takes a couple of minutes, thankfully. The waiter comes by, they order food, and Tooru is now sitting a thoughtful look on his face, idly twirling a chopstick over his knuckles.

“I think, even after all these years, you’re still stuck on the boy who was too frightened to ask his best friend out.”

Issei swallows. “Maybe.” He can admit that much.

Tooru smiles at him, exceedingly gentle. “I get it. It’s scary, to risk it all and put everything on the line for something greater. But you got there, didn’t you? We may have given you an unending amount of shit for all the time you spend dilly-dallying over it, but you did it. You’re dating Takahiro. He chose you. Shouldn’t that count for something?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do any more for him,” Issei whispers. It’s both terrifying and a relief to say it out loud. “Even after I propose. He’s so—he’s so good to me, Tooru. I want to give him the world but I’m afraid I won’t be able to.”

“Who says you have to give him the world?” Tooru demands. “You know Takahiro. You know that’s not what he wants or expects of you. So why are you thinking this way?”

Issei grimaces. “My first attempt at proposing was shit.” Tooru’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “It was—spontaneous. Maybe that’s why it was so bad. We were just sitting in bed, talking about you freaking out over the colour of tissue paper or something, and I just—I asked him to marry me. And he said no.”

“He said _no_?!”

“Okay, when I say it like that it sounds terrible. He wasn’t rejecting me. He said that I didn’t have to ask him then, if I wasn’t ready.” Tooru looks like he’s just seen a ghost. Issei laughs. “Trust me, I had an even worse reaction than you. Takahiro made it really clear he wasn’t saying no to _me_ , but I think it just shot my confidence to shit. And to be fair, it was an awful proposal. I didn’t even have a ring. So I just...I have to do more. I have to do better.”

“You are an idiot,” Tooru mutters. Their food arrives, and he glares forlornly at his pineapple cashew rice. “You’re doing everything out of order, all out of steps...arrrgh. But who’s to say a proposal needs to follow something as trivial as steps anyway.”

“The internet seems to think so.”

“Why the hell are you consulting the internet when you could be talking to a master of romance like me? I’m so offended.”

“I even took one of those Cosmo quizzes,” Issei sighs. Tooru gargles incoherently on a mouthful of rice. “It told me to buy eight dozen roses and propose on top of the Eiffel Tower.”

“You brought that on yourself,” Tooru says. “Look, I’m going to tell you something now. And you absolutely must not repeat it to anyone else, unless you want to die where you stand.”

“I dunno, maybe I should let Kyoutani ‘accidentally’ overhear me discussing it with Takahiro,” Issei teases, and Tooru glowers at him.

“You are such a shit. I can’t believe I’m telling you this, the things I do for you two hopeless idiots in love. Five years ago, on Hajime’s birthday, I proposed to him too.”

And that...that is not what Issei expected to hear. “Wait, what?” And then he grins, sly. “Oh. Oh, you dumbass romantic—”

“NOT A WORD,” Tooru hisses, and Issei cackles.

“All these _years_ you went on and on about teasing Hajime for being head-over-heels for you, when in fact, _you’re_ the one who wanted to propose to him as well.”

“You’re damn right I did,” Tooru sniffs. “I knew you’d take the mickey out of me if I ever told you. Also, you can’t tell Takahiro; it’s my goal to tell him the truth on my deathbed and then die instantly so he can’t ever make fun of me for this.”

“Alright, mister morbid, go easy. So, how did your proposal go? What happened?”

“I remember it well, because absolutely nothing went right,” Tooru laments. “Hajime’s flight home from the conference in Korea got delayed, and then I had to abandon him at the airport because there was an emergency at work. When I got home like, eight hours later, the dinner I made had spoiled and Hajime was sick from airplane food. So there we were, with one of us throwing up and the other stinking of two rounds of disinfecting showers from the hospital. And I’d planned like, a whole evening of romantic activities. I made all his favourite foods. I was going to bring him for dessert at that coffee shop he likes, and then I was going to take us to the local conservatory for their stargazing dome, and I was going to propose at midnight just as Hajime turned twenty-three. Instead, we slept for twelve hours and made congee for breakfast the next morning.”

“Romantic,” Issei says, and he doesn’t miss the way Tooru smiles warmly at that. He traces over the well-worn, well-loved gold band on his ring finger. Issei remembers Takahiro telling him how Tooru refused to let Hajime exchange his ring for a fancier, more expensive one, and insisted on keeping the original one Hajime had saved up for all those years instead.

“I proposed at home, in the kitchen, with both of us in our pyjamas and the worst cases of bed heads you’d ever seen. Hajime said yes. And I was so happy, Issei. _We_ were so fucking happy. You know what I mean?”

“I think I get it now,” Issei says. Something in his heart seems to unclench after hearing Tooru’s secret proposal story, and it’s a relief he didn’t know he needed.

“I’m glad,” Tooru replies. “Now go get your man, Issei, before I beat you to it.”

“Bullshit, not even a black hole to pull you away from Hajime.” 

Tooru chuckles, fond. “Hajime’s been there with me since my life began. And honestly, I can’t imagine being anywhere without him for the rest of it. There are no rules to these kinds of things. You just gotta do what’s right for the both of you, and what will make you guys happy. That’s all there is to it.”

Issei can’t say he disagrees.

* * *

His efforts in planning the perfect proposal doesn’t diminish, but now it feels like there’s a weight lifted off his back. He takes to it with renewed energy, enlists more of Tooru’s (questionable) help, only two Buzzfeed quizzes, and relies on Hajime’s pragmatic sensibilities to drag him back on track when he’s about to go off the rails.

The day he finally picks out a ring is a wonderful day.

“ _Issei_ ,” Tooru breathes when Issei shows them. He’s got his hands clasped over his mouth and he has tears in his eyes. “It’s beautiful. Takahiro’s gonna love it.”

“Wow,” Hajime says, and a rare, wide smile he only ever gives Tooru spreads across his face. “He’s right, it’s gorgeous. You chose well, Issei.”

“Glad my besties approve,” Issei grins back, and accepts Tooru’s tackle-hug with practiced ease.

Takahiro notices his secrecy, despite his best efforts, though he doesn’t pry. Issei feels the curious gaze watching him as he putters about in the apartment, glued to his tablet at times and ending phone calls just a little too quickly when Takahiro wanders in without warning. The curiosity ups when Issei asks to borrow Takahiro’s hard drive to bring to work one evening, citing his own was having problems saving his files.

“You’ve been fidgety lately,” he remarks as he passes over the little grey box. “Is everything okay?”

“Thanks,” Issei says. “And yeah, everything’s fine. Just got some stuff going on.”

Takahiro narrows his eyes. “Is it work? Are they still hounding you to take that position at Major Crimes? You know you don’t have to be nice to them when they’re being dicks to you, Issei.”

“Nah, not Major Crimes,” Issei chuckles, slipping the hard drive into his bag. He crawls back into bed and when he lifts his arm, Takahiro immediately curls into him, cheek pressed against the flat of Issei’s chest. He wraps his arm around Takahiro’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb in soothing, circular motions. “I think you actually scared them off for me the last time you visited. It’s been nice and quiet.”

Takahiro laughs, just a huff of air, but then he falls silent for another moment.

“You know, if something’s wrong, you can talk to me, right?”

“ ‘course,” Issei says, blinking. “You’re my boyfriend _and_ my best friend, of course I’d tell you if something is wrong.”

Takahiro shifts. “Even if that something has to do with me?”

Issei turns and pushes his nose into the curl of Takahiro's hair, exhaling softly. “Yes. Even when it has something to do with you.”

Takahiro is silent for a moment, and Issei waits. He’s learned that if he pushes too hard, Takahiro shys away.

His patience pays off. Takahiro sighs and closes his eyes. “Issei. About what you asked me that night, about getting married. I’m sorry if I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Issei says at once. He knows where Takahiro wants to go with this, and he’s not going to let him. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything.”

Takahiro shifts and grasps Issei’s hand under the sheets. He holds on tight. “Even though I hurt you?” he demands. “Even though what I said has obviously bothered you to this day? Because I want to marry you, Issei. I really do. But you looked so shaken at the time, trying to propose, and I worried that you weren’t ready and that you’d regret it later. I couldn’t let you go through with it. But I was too harsh.”

“You didn’t…” he trails off when Takahiro’s shoulders stiffen. “No, listen, I was shaken because all I could focus on was the no. I didn’t even stop to think that maybe you were surprised too, or that my quote-unquote proposal was _bad_ , Hiro. It’s okay, for real. I’m fine. I don’t want you beating yourself up thinking you’ve hurt me when you haven’t.”

“You’re sure about that?” It’s spoken softly, and Issei can’t help but smile.

“I promise.”

“...alright,” Takahiro replies, but Issei can still sense his restlessness. He kisses the top of his boyfriend’s head, and then down to his temples, nuzzling gently. He kisses Takahiro’s cheek, the corner of his lips, and then Takahiro finally tilts his head up and kisses him fully on the mouth, arms coming up around Issei’s neck. He lets Issei turn and lower him flat on his back, their lips locked the whole way, and sighs with content when Issei presses deeper, surrounding them with the security and softness of the blankets and pillows around them. Lithe cellist’s fingers play with the errant strands of hair at the base of Issei’s neck, and he exhales softly against Takahiro’s lips.

“Love you,” he murmurs. “Love you, love you, love you more than you can even imagine.”

“Kiss me, Issei,” Takahiro whispers. He’s so warm in Issei’s hands, and Issei loves the way his palms spans over the space of Takahiro’s back and hip, cradling him close, protecting him from anything that could hurt them. “Kiss me, please, just _kiss me_.”

There's an urgency to his words, so Issei does.

* * *

The second Saturday of every month is Brunch day, except this time, when Takahiro squirms awake at seven in the morning, Issei is already out of bed and in the shower.

He hears the sound of the bathroom door opening, and a moment later the plastic curtains draw back very slightly and there’s a familiar, naked body sliding up against his.

“Mornin’,” Takahiro yawns. Issei hums and turns to give his boyfriend a kiss. “You’re up early.”

“Hajime suggested we work out this morning,” Issei says easily. “He and Sawamura and I are going to the gym together.”

“You, gymming on a Saturday morning?” Takahiro mock-gasps. “Who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?”

“Hey, I work out regularly. I’m a Police Sergeant, for crying out loud.”

“I know,” Takahiro chuckles. “But you love a lazy Saturday morning more.”

“No lie there.”

Takahiro bats his eyelashes at him, and reaches around to grab the shampoo. “Well, unlike you, _I_ am going to indulge myself on delicious pancakes and caesars and absolutely not think about going to the gym and getting all sweaty.”

“Sounds like fun,” Issei says. He scoops a dollop of suds from Takahiro’s hair and drops it on his boyfriend’s nose. “Where are you guys going?”

“Pink Dove,” Takahiro says. “Tooru insisted on it, said he was having a craving. No complaints from me, though, they have the best cream puffs I’ve ever had. And a rooftop patio. It’s pretty dope.”

“You’ll have to take me someday,” Issei suggests, and which prompts a laugh from Takahiro.

“And let you suffer through Tooru’s maniacal food photo-ops? Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

“Mmm, I think I’ll live,” Issei says, and slips out of the shower. “I’m gonna head out. Text me when you’re there!”

“ ‘kay! Love you!” Takahiro shouts before he starts humming as he showers. Issei changes, packs up his things, and gives the bathroom one last look.

“Love you too,” he whispers, and takes the first bold step out the door.

* * *

His phone buzzes insistently as Hajime drives, and when Issei checks he can see a flood of notifications from Tooru.

_[Tooru: met up with Takahiro at the subway station! Waiting for Suga-chan!]_

_[Tooru: Hajime’s location says you guys are a block away! We’re gonna stall now!!]_

_[Tooru: Suga-chan is here! Gonna take a detour on our way over!]_

_[Tooru: mission Get Issei And Takahiro Hitched is a GO]_

The brunch place, Pink Dove, is small but cute, filled with potted plants and lush green vines curling around the exposed brick wall. The interior is chic and modern, a style he knows Takahiro is fond of, and most importantly, it’s not too busy. The manager greets him with a warm smile and a firm handshake, and leads Issei and Hajime around a small sign that says _Reserved for a Special Event_ and upstairs to the patio.

_[Sugawara: I’m excited for you, Matsukawa-san! Good luck!]_

_[Sawamura: you got this, Matsukawa. We’re rooting for you.]_

_[Tooru: we’re coming!! Making our way downtown!! Walking fast!!]_

_[Tooru: faces pass!! proposal-bound!! lol]_

_[Tooru: WE’RE HERE]_

Issei knows he has to breathe, but all the air seems to have vanished from his lungs. His hand shakes as he smooths down the front of his shirt; it’s Takahiro’s favourite shirt on him, one that he says makes Issei look like a hot, hip art professor.

“Hey,” Hajime says, nudging him lightly. “You can do this, Issei.”

“I know,” Issei breathes. “I’m ready.”

Hajime grins. “See you soon.”

And then he’s gone, disappearing down the stairs, and Issei is left standing alone on the patio, waiting.

He hears the sounds of early morning traffic some distance away. He feels the warmth of the sun shining down on him. He can smell the scents of breakfast cooking, probably from the kitchen below. Distantly, there’s the sound of the bell tinkling as the front door opens, new voices downstairs. Then, there’s the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs quickly, and Takahiro emerges from the stairwell in one fluid motion. He’s a little out of breath, but his eyes widen as he takes in the whole ensemble; his boyfriend, waiting for him on the empty patio, standing before a table set for two, holding a bouquet of lilacs and roses and primroses, and smartly dressed from head to toe.

“Issei,” Takahiro says, stunned. Issei has never seen him look so surprised before. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprise,” Issei smiles. Takahiro looks beautiful; it’s spring, and he’s wearing a light blue-and-white striped shirt and fitted jeans, and he has a pair of aviator sunglasses perched in his hair that makes him look like he’s off to the beach or out for a stroll on the harbourfront. “You mentioned cream puffs and a killer patio, so I had to see for myself.”

Takahiro chokes on a laugh, and they close the distance between them in tandem. They lean in at the same time and kiss soundly; when they part, Issei holds out the flowers and Takahiro takes them gently, drinking in the mixture of blossoms and colours. Then he blinks and tilts his head to the side.

“That music...those are my compositions,” Takahiro splutters, face turning red with recognition. The deep, emotional swell of the cello lingers in the background, not loud enough to be obtrusive, but present enough to set the mood for the patio.

“They are,” Issei grins.

“How did you—fuck. My hard drive. Oh, you sneaky sneak, you didn’t _actually_ need it for work, did you?”

“Not at all,” Issei laughs. “I’ll admit, I’m biased. I think you’re the greatest musician alive, and I needed the greatest musican’s amazing songs for this.”

“And what is ‘this’?” Takahiro asks.

Issei takes the ring box out from his pocket and goes down on one knee.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Takahiro blurts out.

Issei grins, and opens the box. The ring is simple, but it’s the colours that give it life; it’s made of rose gold and has an elegant black titanium band running through the middle. Set in the centre is a tasteful diamond, and engraved on the inside are the words _you are my happiness_. 

“Hiro,” Issei says, and he winces a bit at how raspy his voice sounds. He clears his throat slightly and tries to ignore the tell-tale prickling in his eyes. “Hiro, first of all, I want to say that I’m sorry that I’ve kept you waiting. It’s been too long, and you have the patience of a saint. But I’m here now. I’m here and I want to tell you how much you mean to me. From the first day we met till this day, right now, I’ve never loved anyone as much as I’ve loved you. You are the light in my life and the music in my soul—” Takahiro chokes out a little laugh, and Issei smiles, glad that the cheesy line earned him a giggle, “—and I’ve never felt more right spending all these years by your side, as your best friend and your boyfriend.”

His hands aren’t shaking anymore. Takahiro is holding back tears, fingers pressed to his lips, but he’s smiling so, so wide.

“You deserve the world, Hiro. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. All that you want, and everything that you wish for, I promise you that I’ll give it to you. I love you so, _so_ much. Hanamaki Takahiro, will you marry me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Takahiro all but screams, and barely manages to set the flowers down before he’s launching himself at Issei, nearly toppling them both over. Issei throws his arms around Takahiro and squeezes tight; he buries his face into the crook of Takahiro’s neck and cries, relief and joy and elation crashing down around him. He can’t stop whispering _my happiness, you are my happiness, Hiro_ over and over again, and he can hear his fiancé laugh, watery and delighted.

“I love you,” Takahiro says. He kisses Issei, emotions spilling out of him in abandon. “I love you, you stupidly wonderful man, I love you, I love you, _I love you_.”

There’s a word for all that Issei’s feeling. It’s as deep as the warmth that envelops his heart, as light as the sunshine that beams down on them, and as bright as Takahiro’s smile when Issei slides the ring on his finger. They kiss relentlessly, and when Issei finally shoots Hajime the _he said yes_ text, their friends clamber up the stairs as one tearful group to congratulate them.

_Happy_.

Yes, that’s all there was to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Lilacs: first love  
> Rose: love  
> Primrose: our love is eternal
> 
> [Here's the ring Matsukawa chose.](https://www.jamesallen.com/wedding-rings/mens-alternative-metals/14k-rose-gold-and-black-titanium-satin-center-8mm-ring-item-67100?cur=CAD&km_source=google&km_medium=cpc&km_term=50165016686&km_campaign=704912049&km_keyword=&km_adid=247280386226&km_account=shoppingweddingonly&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIv9SBz-iE5wIVx0XVCh1bswMOEAQYBCABEgLNKPD_BwE)
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


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